It Came Upon a Midnight Clear
by V.R. Jennings
Summary: On a hunt for a black dog in the snowy Montana mountains, the boys find something else much more sinister. Both hurt and alone, can they survive the night when even Mother Nature has something else planned? reviews much appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: First off, I want to give HUGE THANKS to my betas and truly wonderful friends: Darksupernatural, Merisha, and Soncnica. You guys are unbelievably patient and very supportive, and in which this story would not have happen without you three! Love ya! *hugs*

Disclaimers: don't own 'em....sadly

* * *

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

**Chapter 1**

"Aw c'mon Sammy, don't you trust me?" Dean threw over his shoulder as he guided the only source of light from his flashlight with professional ease into the looming darkness of the woods, hazel green eyes searching warily around as every nerve in his body was on high alert.

"More like I don't trust the plan," Sam huffed from behind him as he followed his brother deeper into the woods, gun trained in front of him as he too searched carefully around while memories of the events leading up to where they were kept flooding his mind.

Six forty-eight p.m. Sam had glanced at the clock in the bottom corner of his laptop screen before casting his worried blue green eyes to the motel room door. He looked back at the computer and tried to shove the anxiousness to the back of his mind as he distractedly searched for another hunt. At a minute past seven, Sam gave a sigh of relief when he heard the familiar rumbling sound of the Impala's engine, followed by the squeaking-groan of the heavy door. He heard the damp crinkling of yet another greasy take out bag and Dean's heavy, booted feet on the chipped concrete walk outside the motel room door. Sam's worry was choked down as Dean came through the door.

He'd been doing that a lot lately, Sam noted as he eyed his brother and watched him place two brown bags on the small table in front of them, the smell of burgers and fries rifted through the air.

"So Geekboy, have you found a hunt for us yet?" Dean asked, pretending that nothing had happened.

It was now or never, Sam thought, bracing himself for what was to come, "Dean, we need to talk –"

"No, we already discussed this –" Dean started, shaking his head as he took out the contents in the bag.

Closing his laptop, Sam cut in, "Dean, _we_ didn't discuss anything before you walked out six hours ago! Listen Dean, I'm so-"

"Don't Sam!" Dean snapped harshly, nose flaring dangerously and hazel green eyes threatening his brother as they glared icily, "Don't say you're sorry, 'cause for the last damn time, it _wasn't _your fault."

"Oh yeah?" Sam scoffed, "Then what's with the nightmares, huh? It seems I'm not the only one with them."

Dean was saved from answering when Metallica's _Hit the Lights_ sounded off from this cell. "Drop it Sam," Dean said before he answered the call.

Sam's bad mood caused him to yank open his laptop roughly, almost breaking it in half, as he settled on finding a hunt, half listening to the one-sided conversation.

"Dean Winchester," the older man said as he lowered himself wearily on a chair. Sometimes getting into an argument with Sam was like going up against demonic pro wrestlers, Dean thought absently.

"Hey Caleb, how's it been? The waitress in San José's keeping you in check, is she?"

"Really?...Where?" Dean said, all serious now and noticing he attracted his brother's attention. Dean listened as his old friend filled him in on a potential hunt. "In Montana?...Yeah, we'll be there in a couple days…Listen Caleb, you haven't by chance seen or heard from our Dad yet?...No?...Well, I just thought I'd ask…Yeah, sure will."

"Dean –" Sam began once Dean ended the call.

"Drop it, Sam," Dean said in a tone that left no room for argument.

"But –"

"Pack up your stuff. Caleb found us a hunt."

So after getting a call from Caleb that a black dog was running amok and caused eight brutal deaths in a small town in Montana, Dean was more than happy to hit the road right after the events in the Roosevelt Asylum in Illinois. _Hopefully the more miles between us and that spook house for nut jobs, the quicker I can forget and Sammy…_ Dean shook his head to free him of the train of thought that made him want to put his fist through the cheap motel plaster.

Sam, on the other hand, wanted to take a break after what happened in Illinois as the flashbacks of him shooting his sibling with a shotgun full of rock salt and then pointing a gun – regardless whether it was loaded or not – and actually firing at his own brother, assaulted and tortured his guilt-riddled mind. He was hoping to use the break to talk about what happened and hopefully to get Dean to open up, seeing how badly it had affected him, but after many attempts and the many 'Drop it Sam's' Dean had uttered harshly, he gave up…for now. And so seeing the excitement sparkle in his brothers' eyes at the mention of a new hunt, he knew he couldn't take that from Dean. _For now, Dean. I'll let it go for now. _Sam plugged in the details of the hunt as Dean rattled of the information and soon Dean's eyes were dancing with the confirmation that it was really a black dog.

"Man, you know how long it's been since I got down and dirty with one of these fugly things?" Dean said, hunching over the laptop that he'd taken out of Sam's hands and rubbing his palms together like he was about to dig into a pie. Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, pulling the computer away from Dean again.

"Dude, these things are dangerous."

"Oh, they're badass alright. But bullets will do the trick. What's with all the trembles, Worry McWorryton? We don't even have to smell the thing to kill it."

Only Sam wished he could be as enthusiastic as his sibling, who was annoyingly almost beside himself with glee about the upcoming hunt, regardless of the dangers.

_And here we are._ Sam thought grimly as he watched the tensed muscles of his brother's back directly in front of him, the search of the black dog wearing both of them down. "I don't like this Dean."

Dressed in heavy shirts, sweaters, jackets, and with heavy thermal underwear, both Winchesters were ready for the icy, snowy conditions, and had begun their search early enough to hopefully avoid the snowstorm that was sure to start later on in the evening. But hours upon hours spent out in the woods in the freezing temperatures with no sign of any type of creature had Sam wondering if they were missing something.

Surely it would have shown up by now, he thought anxiously as one glance skyward showed him that dark had ascended and with it the strong winds indicating the early bouts of the predicted snowstorm. His mind quickly snapped back to the present at his brother's next words.

"What's not to like?" Dean refuted, cocking a brow at his brother before shooting his eyes forward, "We find the mutt, kill it, save future victims, and get the hell –"

"Oh, so _that's_ the plan?" Sam replied sarcastically, coming to a full stop, "'Cause _I_ understood that _you_ were going to distract the mutt, almost get _yourself_ killed, and that _I_ would have to be the one to save _your_ ass." Sam knew he sounded pissed, but given the certain circumstances and his freezing buttocks, he thought he at least had the right to _be_ pissed.

I hate camping, Dean thought for the millionth time but kept walking long after his little brother stopped, swinging the flashlight here and there, and hoping to catch a small glimpse of a pair of evil red eyes before abruptly coming to a stop himself. Huh, he thought as he settled the flashlight to illuminate what only he could see. And as he turned incredulous eyes at Sam, he said, "Dude, you should know by now that _I_, the awesome big brother that I am, never need saving. It's your ass that needs constant watch…and I'd watch out for that neck of yours if I was you."

Sam deeply inhaled the crisp cold air before slowly exhaling it as his face reddened at the reminder that his neck was somehow a red bulls-eye for supernatural creatures everywhere. Even with what little light the half moon was casting down and reflecting monstrous shadows everywhere, Sam could still see the lines of his brother's eyes crinkled up in amusement.

Dean chuckled softly to himself at Sam's discomfort before turning around and booming out, "Besides dude, I think I found it."

"You _think_ you found it?" Sam asked as he ambled his way to his brother, half curious and half annoyed.

Dean cleared his throat as he tried to still his somersaulting stomach, "Well, most of it…"

"Ew..gross…" Sam said as he turned away and put a sleeved arm to his mouth, breathing hard through his nose to keep the contents in his stomach from spilling, the stench unbelievable.

The sight before them was beyond anything they had ever seen. The top half of the dog's bones – including the skull – were crushed into powder, making its skin look like those animal skin rugs. The eyes were even missing from their sockets and a large pool of crimson stood out against the stark white of the snow. Following the small droplets of blood to the right a foot away showed the bottom half of the dog – its bones too, were crushed and leaving an even bigger pool of crimson.

Dean grimaced at the sight as he bent down for a closer look, using his shotgun to further inspect the dead being, "This looks recent. It looks like it hasn't been dead for more than twenty-four hours at most."

"Dean – stop, man," Sam forced out as the wet, squishy noise soon filled the air, making his queasy stomach harder to control.

Dean stopped immediately when he saw his brother's face turn a few shades greener, "Sorry."

Sam nodded his appreciation before turning around. Breathing in and out, and finding his voice again, he said, "Whatever did this, isn't human…and could still be here…"

"So let's head back to the motel and find out what the hell we're up against before we end up like him," Dean said as he took his brother by the arm and steered him away from the gruesome carnage, letting their light guide them back to the safety of the Impala.

As the brothers walked a few more steps, the muffled sound of moving snow reverberated around the Winchesters, barely heard, but loud in the sudden silence of the forest. Dean stopped and looked around for the source. The sound was almost inaudible, but he heard it as plain as day, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stood out on end.

Just as soon as it started, it ended, throwing them back into silence. The sound of the usual nighttime critters were silenced, as if they knew something out of the ordinary was about to happen. The winds, it seemed, had died down. And all of a sudden, it felt like the boys were thrown into complete darkness as the stars and the moon died along with everything else.

"Dean?" Sam asked uncertainly, eyes darting everywhere for whatever caught the older hunter's attention, "What is it?"

Dean didn't answer as he strained to hear any sound that might alert them to its whereabouts, instead holding up a finger effectively silencing Sam with the hunter's gesture. All the while automatically stepping into Big Brother mode and placing himself in front of Sam, and forcing them to stealthily walk backwards, slow inch by slow inch.

All of a sudden, he wished his baby brother was still at Stanford and not about to get killed in freaking Montana. He was scared, but he would never admit it to anyone – and seeing how freaked Sam looked, he knew he had to have his wits about him and get them both out of there alive.

Eyes narrowed as he caught a tiny glimpse of their mysterious assailant in between the trees – _what the hell was that?!_ –, he clicked the flashlight off, fired off a round, and began to frantically shove Sam in the direction of his beloved Chevy, "RUN SAM!"

"What about you?" Sam said crossly as he automatically began running, his brother right behind him. He seriously had no idea what they were running from or what had got his brother spooked. _Dean is freaking out. What the hell is that thing?_

Chancing a glance behind him, Sam saw something that made his heart skip a beat in fright, and he almost stopped running if it wasn't for Dean firing off another round and pushing him uphill.

It seemed like a lifetime for both of them before they slowed to a stop after making sure they weren't being followed by the _thing_.

"So, what the hell was that?" Dean spoke first after gaining his breath, hands on his thighs as he bent over at the waist. _Maybe Bobby will know_, Dean thought as he flipped open his cell to call their friend.

Sam shook his head as he sat down on a tree stump, "I don't know. I've never seen anything like it before."

Dean stood straight and ran both hands through his hair, turning away from Sam and wishing he had something to throw. "Great! First no reception out here and now we're being chased by something that looks like it came out of a Romero flick," Dean grumbled, turning back and sitting down next to him, followed by, "What do we do now, Sasquatch?"

Sam studied the compass and map he stored in his pack, and replied, "Well, we can always try and make it to the car."

Dean nodded, looked around and asked, "Which way?"

Sam winced and replied regretfully, "South. Ten. Miles. South."

Dean's jaw dropped, "T-ten miles south?"

Seeing his brother about to explode, Sam interjected, "Listen Dean, we were five miles away from the car when we found that black dog, and we ran five miles in the wrong direction when we were being chased by the Grim Reaper's friend. All we have to do is retrace our steps and –"

"And what, Sam? Come face-to-face with it? We don't even know what it is!" Dean exclaimed as he tried his hardest to mask how really scared shitless he felt, but the look on his brother's face told him he failed.

Sam's jaw dropped, but he quickly clamped it up and swallowed the lump in his throat. _Shit, if Dean's really afraid of this thing…_Sam stopped himself from pondering the various outcomes further and suggested, "We can go a different route."

Dean looked at Sam gratefully for not mentioning his almost-hysteria and said, "Sounds like a plan to me. So what are we waiting for?"

*~*~*

Three hours later found the Winchester boys still making their slow trek downhill as the snowstorm grew stronger and worse with each passing minute.

"D-Dean?" Sam gritted out as he shivered slightly, "can we find some s-sort of shelter and make c-camp?"

"W-we're not far away now," Dean said through chattering teeth, shivering just as slightly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, in three hours, we have, so far, walked what, a mile and a half…in a snowstorm no less…we are no nearer to the damn car and warm beds…and we probably won't reach them 'til sunrise…if we're lucky to be alive by then."

On any other day, Dean would have been offended by Sam's use of words when concerning his baby, but right now he was too damn cold to care. Seeing how cold his baby brother was, Dean huffed out, "Yeah Sammy, we'll look for shelter."

And it was true. In three too short hours they had crossed two frozen lakes, a small ravine, and one snow-covered mountain that Sam swore was just a fairly large hill. All in all, both brothers were widely impressed by how far they've gotten in conditions such as this.

A half hour went by with no such luck on finding something to settle in from the storm, making Dean's gripes about not even finding one single cabin in the middle of nowhere, a mantra of its own.

Sam, on the other hand, just listened to his older brother's complaints half-heartedly as he tried to get his sleep-fogged mind to wrap itself around the mystery of the creature_. Why hasn't it tried to come after us again?_ He questioned himself for the thousandths time, but was too tired to come up with a theoretical answer.

Actually, he was too tired to even catch himself from walking into his brother when the older man stopped, "D-Dean?"

Dean didn't know what was wrong except he _knew_ – like his Spidey senses were tingling, _gut feeling,_ but he was too tired to put the pieces of the puzzle together. The danger he sensed was just out of reach of his muddled mind. In fact he was too tired to even care that they were at yet another mountain. He knew it was due to the hypothermia, but for right now he just didn't care.

"Dean!" Sam shouted a second too late.

Dean whirled around in time to see his baby brother go flying through the air and crash land against a tree with a thud and a pained grunt, before sliding down in a boneless heap on the ground.

Seeing the blood pooling around the younger man's head jumpstarted Dean's mind into action, and using adrenaline to his advantage, he cocked his gun and fired at the _thing_ that was slowly moving toward the unconscious hunter.

With lightening speed, the creature swung around and grabbed Dean's right arm just as the shot was fired, and snapped it in two, making the hunter grunt and hiss in pain as he dropped his gun from lifeless fingers. The creature's other hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed Dean by the throat, lifting him off the ground and efficiently cutting off his air supply.

Dean followed the long, grey, spidery, bony fingers at the base of his throat to a skeletal arm hidden beneath dirty, black, shredded-looking robes that seemed to move on their own accord, in tune with the creature's movements. Like shadows, Dean thought ironically. The hood of the robe shrouded the _thing's_ face from its victims, but was revealed moments before their death, and what Dean saw was worse than Death itself.

A skull of part dragon and part human with a rare albino rattlesnake roaming in and out around the open sockets, nose and mouth appeared before him…and with it, a reek of death, a stench that if Dean had had any breath remaining would have robbed away as surely as if he'd drowned. In the sockets where the eyes should have been were sunken orbs aglow with a thin film of the palest blue, meant to leave their victims in a trance long enough to kill them. But it was the voices that snapped Dean out of the trance; it was the voices of long ago innocents being tortured as they were held trapped within the creature's grasp.

After he snapped out of it, Dean's oxygen-deprived mind noticed another faint glow, this time within its robes and right where the heart should've been. Questions about the _thing_ in general circled around in his mind, but the need for much needed oxygen took first priority over the many inquiries.

Choking and gasping, desperately trying to get air to pass through his abused throat and enter his protesting lungs, and feeling the pressure building in his head when his lungs weren't getting any air, sent him to try to fight, claw and kick his attacker. The movement elicited a strangled yell from him over the use of his broken arm. The skeletal hand on his throat held on tight and did not budge heedless of the young man's struggles.

Chest burning and black spots dancing before his eyes made Dean attempt one last act to break free before succumbing to unconsciousness, or worse, death. Feeling his life draining out of him, he numbly felt for the silver knife he kept in the small sheath around his ankle with his left hand, and taking one last look over the creature's shoulder at his still unconscious sibling, he pulled out the knife and plunged it in the _thing's_ heart.

The last thing he heard before giving in to the beckoning darkness was a disgruntled, ethereal scream and a sense of falling and tumbling down before coming to a bone-crushing halt.

**TBC...**

* * *

A/N: Not to cause any confusion, but this takes place after the episode Asylum in the first season. I love to hear your thoughts! Please r&r! :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to my betas and absolutely wonderful friends, Darksupernatural, Merisha, and Soncnica! You guys rock and I still love ya! :) This still would not have happen without you three! And special thanks to SiFiRN for her amazing insight and help on this one! *hugs* :)

A/N: And I love to thank each and every one of ya for the amazing responses the first chapter had gotten! I'm truly astounded by the remarkable feedback, and so I hope this chapter won't disappoint! :)

Disclaimers: don't own 'em

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Sam shivered, not realizing how cold he was when he came to…and not realizing how much he was in pain until his shivering jolted achy parts in his abused body. Slowly opening his eyes to slits and moving his head in order to gather his whereabouts had quickly caused him to shut his eyes as he let out a gasp of pain. _Might be a good idea to move slower_, he thought numbly as he breathed through it.

Once the excruciating spikes in his head receded to a dull throb, he decided to do a mental checkup of himself. _Legs and toes…check. Arms and fingers…check. Okay, so no spinal injury. Ribs…maybe two cracked ones…ow! No three, definitely three cracked ones._ After stifling a groan, he then chunked every bruise and sore spot as something that a good R&R could fix. _I'm so making Dean take a week off. R&R…_

Huh, now why does _that_ sound familiar? Sam thought hazily. With a jolt of panic bringing him to painful alertness, Sam yelled, "Dean!" But his achy body and his tsunami-sized headache protested loudly when he moved too quickly and caused him to yelp in pain. As he dropped his head back on the ground, he closed his eyes and rode out the pain that shot up in his already tortured head.

Breathing and swallowing harshly to repress the bile crawling up his esophagus and keeping the black spots from making a reappearance, he gradually opened his eyes and steadily sat up, using the tree to support himself. Seeing the blood coating the snow, he absently touched the back of his head and winced when felt the gash. Swinging his blood-covered hand in front of him, he groaned inwardly and hoped it didn't need stitching.

Once he was sure he wasn't going to pass out, he started getting to his feet, bit by slow bit. He swayed a little and tiny black dots swarmed in his vision before disappearing.

"Dean?" Sam called softly as he looked around him, hoping to see his brother at the base of a tree like he had found himself. _Dean's fine, Dean's always fine_._ He's always alright, he says so himself. _Sam repeated over and over in his mind when his search came up empty.

Catching a small glint of something black sticking out in the snow, Sam wasted no time as he stumbled a few times to reach the forgotten flashlight.

"Dean?" Sam called loudly as he swung the light frantically around. He almost missed the tiny object that the light reflected upon it in his frantic search for his older brother.

Recognizing it for what it was, Sam quickly dashed for it and picked it up, vaguely wondering why it was coated in a glossy pale blue, but no longer caring when his eyes darted to the black abyss on the other side of the mountain.

_No, no, no, no, no! _Sam's mind kept repeating as panic almost engulfed him, bringing him down to his knees and making it harder to breathe. Tears clouded his vision and black spots made their appearance as he breathed out in harsh gasps. But no, he wouldn't quit now. Not when his brother needed him the most.

Reaffirming his grasp on the flashlight and shaking himself mentally, he steadied his shaky hands before forcefully dragging himself to perch atop the cliff and cautiously looked down.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled as he directed the light to and fro.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled again, hoping against hope that his brother was not down there.

Leaning farther out on the cliff and shining the light further down, he was just about to call out his brother's name when a breath caught in his throat. Twelve feet down and a few inches to the left showed Dean lying deathly still.

"DEAN! Hold on, I'm coming!" Sam called, and not wasting any more time as adrenaline fueled his energy, he scrambled back up. Noticing a rocky incline leading down to the side of the mountain on his right, he sent a silent prayer for help before making his careful hike to his brother.

Slipping and sliding on loose rock and snow, Sam barely maintained his balance as he raced to his brother's side. Several cuss words uttered under his breath as his hands and knees came out cut up and bloodied, but all that didn't matter now when he saw what lay before him in the soft glow of the light.

Time seemed to stop for Sam Winchester when he saw the broken, bloody body of his older brother. Moisture misted his own blue green eyes, making it almost impossible to see the blood-spattered mess, the entangled limbs, and the ashen pallor of his brother's face. _Oh Dean, no, no, no,_ his mind kept saying over and over as he sat back on his haunches and his bottom lip quivered.

"Don't think like that, Sam!" he ground out through clenched teeth and with new resolved, he put his trembling fingers on Dean's throat, expecting the end. His heart skipped a beat and he almost laughed out loud when he felt a faint pulse beneath his fingers. Sam quickly placed his hand in front of Dean's mouth to check his breathing, and soon felt dizzy with relief to find his brother alive.

Dean was sprawled on his stomach, face slightly turned towards Sam, on a snow covered rock ledge that jutted out right beneath where he fell, which amazingly stopped any further progress downward that would no doubt have cost him his life. Sam could see that Dean's left arm was pinned beneath him between the unforgiving cold floor and his own body weight. Any inkling that it might be broken was left unsolved as Sam began assessing the older hunter's injuries.

Holding the flashlight in his right, Sam's left hand gently felt around his brother's scalp for any other injuries other than the one that the blood was leaking from, doing his best to not move the head for fear of causing neck injury. After that, Sam moved onto feeling around his brother's neck and spine, and sighed gratefully when he didn't find anything amiss. Once that task was done, he began feeling around his brother's ribs, finding four of them broken.

As Sam felt the left side of Dean's ribs, his hand contacted with something sticky, warm, and wet. Alarm bells sounded off in his mind, but as he jerked his hand away, he brushed against something solid. Maneuvering around his brother, Sam caught sight of something that made him lightheaded and shoot forward to the side to expel his breakfast and lunch. Eyes closed tightly and breathing deeply through his nose to keep the nausea and dizziness at bay, Sam forced his eyes to open and look at the tree branch that had embedded itself in his brother's side, right below the ribs. "Shit Dean, what else could go wrong?" Sam voiced out loud to no one in particular.

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to do anything until his brother was awake, Sam moved back to Dean and continued on with his assessment, finding just one broken left leg.

"Dean?" Sam slightly shook his brother, "Time to wake up bro."

When that didn't work, Sam resorted to slapping Dean's cheek lightly, "Dean, wake up. Open your eyes. I need you with me bro. C'mon man, don't do this."_ I need to see that cocky attitude and that arrogant smirk of yours telling me to stop being such a girl_, was what Sam wanted to say.

The shaking became rougher and the slaps to the cheek became harder as Sam's desperation became more apparent, "Dean, open those damn eyes of yours now! I need you man," his voice cracked, "I can't do this without you. Please Dean, for me."

As if by some miracle or just sheer Winchester luck, Sam's desperate pleas were finally heard through the wonderful, blissful fog and Dean's eyes opened to mere slits, glassy green orbs swiftly landing on his baby brother, "Ssmmy? 'Ky?" he barely rasped out.

Smiling thankfully, Sam said, "Yeah Dean, I'm okay," then concernedly, "but it's you I'm worried about."

Dean huffed out an almost inaudible "I'm fine", a small semblance of his old self, before turning equally concerning eyes on his brother's long, brown, shaggy hair, matted in crimson, "Blood?"

Sam smiled tightly at him, "It's nothing Dean. Seriously, I'm fine."

The look of pure relief that etched Dean's face just about broke Sam's heart, but the look on Dean's face when he was about to drift off to unconsciousness made Sam rapidly say, "Listen Dean, do you think you can turn your head to the left, facing away from me? I need to turn you over."

Dean blinked several times as he registered what was being asked of him and gave Sam the smallest of nods. Slowly pulling his right arm toward himself and using it as leverage, Dean put all his remaining strength on that arm before a strangled cry erupted viciously and rendered him unconscious.

"Dean?!" Sam started slapping and shaking his brother again.

Dean managed to stifle a moan of pain when he came to minutes later. Suddenly every nerve in his body throbbed unmercifully. _Why the hell wasn't I aware of it earlier? _Dean groaned, unsuccessfully stifling that one as his body started shaking.

"Dean? Thank God! Here, let me help turn your head to the left," Sam said, extremely guilty for failing to check his brother's broken right arm.

Dean didn't have the strength to answer, or nod, or do anything as sharp needles were ruthlessly stabbing his every cell, but he hoped his unspoken permission was conveyed in his eyes.

Sam nodded his understanding and placed his huge hands on Dean's head, but hesitated for just a moment and wondered if it was bad idea seeing as how Dean's right arm was broken. But at Dean's questioning gaze, Sam quickly and carefully turned his sibling's head to face the other way.

Both Winchesters took a sharp intake of breath for different reasons. For Sam, it was because he didn't expect his brother's head wound to be as bad as the other wounds. Blood coated the massive gash and the entire left side of Dean's face all the way down his chin, and long, ugly abrasions decorated his cheek.

Dean's sharp intake of breath was due to seeing so much blood, so much of _his_ blood. _Huh, well at least now I know why it took me a little longer to feel the aches and pains_, Dean thought grimly, knowing that hypothermia and shock never went well hand in hand. _Shit, I'm cold._

"Um, okay so uh…don't move, okay? I'll…I'll turn you over, but don't move, understand? It's gonna hurt like hell though."

Dean gave Sam a 'Duh!' look, making Sam smile softly. Sam positioned his right arm on Dean's back and braced the fallen hunter's broken limb with his hand, while the other was placed right under his chest. He silently counted to three before swiftly and carefully turning his brother on his back, mindful of the tree branch and the busted leg.

Dean couldn't hold back a scream as he was turned over, and he fought the ongoing dizziness that was misting his exhausted mind. If he felt like crap before the sudden movement, Dean was sure he felt like shit now as every nerve ending in his body was wracked with the agony burning through him. An abrupt ripping sound coming from his brother made Dean turn his pain-glazed eyes on Sam.

Sam didn't waste another minute as he took off his heavy jacket, sweaters and shirts. Pulling the sweaters and jacket back on, he started ripping his shirts to use as makeshift bandages for his brother's wounds. Wadding up some of the cloths, Sam placed them gently but firmly around the branch to stop the bleeding, knowing full well that Dean would surely bleed out and die if he removed the branch. Using one long piece of cloth, he then wrapped it around Dean's midsection to keep the wadded cloths in place. He seriously hoped the branch didn't hit anything vital, but knowing their how their luck runs, he couldn't rule out the possibility.

Going off a short distance, Sam picked up some chunks of wood and hoped they were sturdy enough to use as splints. Returning back to his brother, Sam placed the woods on either side of Dean's left leg and tied them together with the cloths. Using the rest of the cloths, Sam used them for the head wound and a sling for Dean's arm. Thankfully, his brother's other arm wasn't busted up when he inspected it, just awfully bruised.

Sam shivered once he was done. Looking around, he finally took notice of the strong wintry winds violently whipping themselves around them and the increase drop in temperature. As the adrenaline wore off, he became more and more aware of their current predicament. Shit! The snowstorm! Sam thought, panic gripping him and shooting him to action.

"Dean? Hey, Dean?" Sam asked anxiously, looking over at his brother and grimaced when he finally noticed the dark bruises forming on his brother's neck.

Dean didn't move or say anything. Fear gripped the younger man's heart as he frantically searched for any signs of life, all the while cursing himself for not checking on Dean sooner when he no longer heard the wounded man's grunts and groans while he was patching him up. He looked worse than the first time Sam found him as the freckles around his nose became more pronounced and dark circles edged under his eyes.

Checking his brother's pulse, Sam winced a little when he found it a little too fast for his liking, and hearing the short, quick, shallow gasps coming from his brother almost sent him reeling with worry. He hated seeing his older brother hurt. His indestructible brother. The one who practically raised him when their father couldn't. The one he always looked up to, and still did.

"Dean? C'mon man, time to go," Sam said, rousing him.

The older hunter stirred a bit before biting back a yelp as he came to. He breathed shallowly as violent shivers unexpectedly assaulting his weakened body, making him vent out profanities so strong that Sam couldn't help but cringe at a couple of them.

"Listen Dean, we're gonna have to get out of here and find shelter; the storm's getting worse," Sam said as he placed his hand on the base of his brother's neck, feeling the coronary artery as he sought reassurance that his brother's heart was still beating. He frowned when he felt his brother's cold and clammy skin shaking uncontrollably, no doubt due to the cold and shock. His frown deepened worriedly when he felt the artery begin to flutter underneath his fingertips.

Swallowing a thick lump in his throat that tasted horribly like blood, Dean nodded his understanding and mumbled, "Help me up."

"What? Dean, you're hurt. You have a tree branch sticking out of you, broken ribs, and there is no way you can walk on that leg," Sam protested.

"Then what now, Einstein?" Dean argued back tiredly. In the back of his mind he knew something was wrong when he felt a sense of increasing pressure on his lungs, as his breathing became more difficult.

Sam's panic increased ten-fold as he heard the laborious breaths, but kept his fear at bay for the sake of his brother, "I'll carry you."

"Uh uh, no way –"

"Dean! We don't have time to argue!"

"I can walk –" the rest of the sentence was cut off short as Dean started coughing and making choking sounds deep in his throat.

Sam quickly turned his brother to the side while Dean coughed up…blood? _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!_ Sam's mind screamed.

Once he made sure Dean was alright, Sam said authoritatively, "I'm gonna carry you and that's that!"

Seeing his brother weakly submitting unnerved Sam greatly, but he pushed it aside as he prepared the long trek up the mountain. Gathering Dean up in his arms, Sam slowly made the hike back up, all the while listening to Dean's tortured breaths. His own muscles ached and the throbbing in his head increased with each step he took, but he managed to shove it all aside for his big brother's need.

Sam exhaled gratefully once they reached to the top, but his relief was short lived when the _thing_ made a comeback. For the second time that night, he felt himself flying through the air and crashing into a tree, falling into nothingness.

Dean gave a surprised yelp as he felt himself falling, but the sudden pressure on his throat told him that the creature managed to grab him before he fell. Suspended in the air and gasping for breath once more, Dean tried futilely to claw its bony hand away from his abused throat. As black spots danced before him once more as his lungs were denied oxygen, he only dimly felt the sharp, excruciating pain flare in his back, but he did hear something snap loudly as his back was slammed against a tree.

Softly choking and chest burning like mad once more, he felt the life slowly ebbing from him as the fight left him; Dean Winchester knew that this was the end. Just as his eyes started to roll in the back of his mind, he faintly heard his baby brother's anguish cry of denial. _It's alright, Sam, everything's gonna be alright_, was Dean's last thought before letting the darkness claim him.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM YOU SONOFABITCH!!!" Sam yelled, and fired one of their discarded shotguns.

The creature let out another ethereal scream as a silver bullet penetrated its back and hit its weak spot. Dropping the young man, the creature fled out into the night.

Sam's heart leapt to his throat at the sight of his brother's motionless form. The horrific sight that met his eyes after he was jerked awake by the awful snapping sound gripped his heart so tightly that for a second he felt he couldn't breathe, but one look at his brother's blue-tinged lips made him _move_. Frantically looking around, he spotted the guns and his pack that he had no idea he had lost. Without a moment's thought, he scrambled for the gun and quickly aimed it at the _thing_; heart stopping briefly at Dean's closed eyes. If they ever get out of this, Sam was sure he's gonna have nightmares of this to last him a lifetime.

Crawling on hands and knees because he wasn't sure if his legs would hold him, he swiftly made his way to his fallen brother.

"Oh thank God," he whispered when he found his brother breathing, albeit weakly, "Okay man, I'll get us out of here." Retrieving the guns and his pack, Sam gathered his brother up again, and began walking on unsteady legs.

Minutes seemed endless as he carried Dean, both shivering violently from the cold, bitter winds. Sam was about to lose all hope until he spotted something through his fuzzy mind. A cave. _Shelter_.

Hurriedly staggering to the mouth of the cave located near the base of the mountain, he gently laid Dean on the ground before going out into the storm to look for anything that could be used to start a fire. The ominous icy tomb was the last place Sam ever wanted to keep Dean safe in, but it was the only option left and he was going to take it. Once he got back in and started the fire, he then began examining his brother's injuries.

The bleeding to Dean's side and leg slowed to a trickle, and the bleeding from the head wound stopped. Carefully lifting his shirt up, Sam gasped in horror at the deep, colorful, grotesque bruises covering his brother's abdomen. He gingerly ran his hand over the damage, and noticed how hard and tender it felt. Remembering that Dean coughed up blood earlier, he fervently prayed that he wasn't bleeding internally. Dean's four broken ribs ended up in God knows where and judging by how only one side was rising and falling, Sam feared that one of his ribs might have pierced a lung. He also knew that the snapping sound he heard earlier was definitely not the tree, but that there was nothing he could do. The gurgling sound deep in his brother's chest accompanied by the thin sheet of sweat coating Dean's pale features, made Sam pray for a damn good miracle.

He needs a hospital, Sam thought worriedly, and with it came a brilliant idea. He knew Dean checked for cell reception earlier, but he hoped that there would be a small chance that he might get one. Just standing an inch from the opening, he flipped open his cell and to his amazement, three bars appeared brightly. Eagerly dialing the first person that came to mind, he waited with bated breath for the person on the other end to answer.

"Caleb speaking," the deep voice of a man in his mid-thirties answered.

"Caleb, its Sam Winchester."

"Hey Sam, how's it goi-"

"Listen, I don't have a lot of time. It's not a black dog anymore, it's something else, Dean's been badly hurt, I'm pretty banged up myself, we're stranded out in the middle of freaking nowhere in a snowstorm, but we've managed to hole up in a cave and –"

"Whoa kid, slow down. Now you said you and Dean are hurt?"

"Can you help h-him?" Sam's breath hitched as tears clouded his vision.

"Where are you?"

Sam fumbled with the compass and map and relayed their whereabouts to their old friend.

"I'll get Bobby and Jim…and maybe that old man of yours, and we'll find you. Just be sure and keep yourselves warm, gotcha?"

"Yeah, gotcha."

"I'd like to see where that college education has gotten you, and I'd like to see that big pain-in-the-ass brother of yours too."

Shivering as he ended the call, he sat near his brother, but far away to leave room to rummage around in his pack. Pulling out the first-aid kit, Sam marveled for a minute at how he didn't think at first to bring it with him when finding Dean on that ledge. Finding some morphine shots in the kit, Sam made a mental note to give them to Dean when he woke up, a hundred percent sure he would be in a lot of pain.

Rummaging around in his pack some more, he made a mental inventory of provisions – something to keep his mind off of his own injuries. Every pained breath he took was close to excruciating as his own chest burned. He was pretty sure the three cracked ribs were now broken from carrying Dean, hitting another tree, and carrying his brother again. And he wouldn't even rule out the possibility that he might have sustained some internal injuries as well. The pounding in his concussed mind was intense enough for him to blackout, but he couldn't. Not when Dean hadn't woken yet.

Sam glanced at Dean then turned his attention back to the inventory…only to have his eyes snap back on his brother. Heart jumping to his throat, he then realized he hadn't heard _any_ noise coming from his wounded brother, not since he called Caleb.

Putting the .45 ammo cases down, Sam shuffled himself a little way closer to his brother. He hissed as he felt a searing pain on his right side. Placing his hand on his side, he felt warm wetness there. No doubt a damn broken rib caused it, Sam thought grimly as he looked at the blood on his hand, but one glimpse at Dean's lips turning that awful shade of blue and the grey pallor tingeing his face had Sam hurrying to his brother's side.

Positioning his ear over his brother's mouth, his heart plummeted when he didn't feel a puff of air coming from his brother. _Ah shit!_ Sam's mind screamed again when he realized Dean wasn't breathing. Sam frantically felt for a pulse and found a very weak and sluggish one, but one nonetheless.

Tipping his brother's head back and pinching his nose, Sam placed his mouth on Dean's and gave two quick breaths, "C'mon Dean, breathe. Don't do this to me." Checking his airway after a couple of more breaths while damning everything he could think of, Sam anxiously wondered why it was taking so long. _Maybe his windpipe is more damaged than I thought?!_

"Dammit Dean, breathe! Breathe you bastard!" Sam shouted, tears raining down his cheeks and splashing on Dean's face. Two more quick breaths followed before Sam broke, choking on tears, "Please Dean, breathe for me."

A tiny gasp of air was heard coming from the wounded hunter as if Dean had heard his brother's pleas.

"Dean?" Sam asked hopefully, shocked as he looked down at Dean.

"Ssmmy? 'Ky?" Dean grated out from his abused larynx as he settled his eyes on Sam.

"Fine, Dean," Sam replied automatically.

"Good" came Dean's immediate response as he closed his eyes.

"Dean, I don't think that's –"

Sam was cut off by the sound of deep booming rumbling from right above their heads. Without thinking, Sam threw himself over Dean, protecting him, as the rumbling shook the ground beneath them. Both Winchesters never moved an inch, waiting with bated breaths for it to stop, tense muscles expecting the unexpected, and neither flinched when they were thrown into total darkness as the fire died out.

An eternity seemed to pass by when it finally ended, leaving the only sound of their breathing for company. Sam waited a few more seconds before lifting his head and removing himself completely from his brother. After checking his sibling's breathing and pulse, in which Dean had weakly pushed his hand away and mumbled something about 'personal space', Sam pulled out their trusty flashlight and illuminated the interior of the cave.

Swinging the light to the entrance of the cave, Sam saw something that made panic and fear seize him tightly. A groan from his brother made Sam turn worried eyes on him, and judging by the grumpy look on the older man's face, he knew Dean had seen their new predicament, or as Dean would say 'their new shithole'.

Looking at each other, both brothers knew that this would be a long night…but how long they could last in the frosty confines of the cave was the question.

**TBC...**

* * *

A/N: Yep, hurt boys galore! Just enough to satisfy all the hurt Dean and Sammy fans, LOL...but I won't let them survive with just a scratch...LOL! Be sure to look for more hurt boys in the next chapter! Until then...pretty please r&r :) Merry Christmas everyone!!!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Soncnica and Mish: Thanks for your amazing help and support, and for not throwing in the towel- yet! LOL ;) And again, special thanks to the wonderful SciFiRN! You three have been truly wonderful and I thank you.

A/N: Sorry guys for the delay. I've been hit with the worst thing imaginable called 'Writer's Block' and..well..life just got in the way. Really hope y'all forgive me :) Well, without much further ado, here's the third chapter! Enjoy! ;)

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em...only wished I did

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"T-t-this…s-sucks," Dean forced out through chattering teeth. Damn he was cold and the shivers running relentlessly up and down his frail body were making matters worse. His breath hitched more painfully with each inhale and his chest burnt agonizingly after each exhale. Thankfully though, the freezing temperatures had managed to bring most of his injuries down to a dull ache.

"I-I know man," Sam agreed, shivering just as badly

Their hopes of being found and getting out were soon diminished when they discovered their only way out was blocked off by the avalanche. It was unbelievably cold, freezing as hell, but Sam didn't want to renew the fire, there was no ventilation and he wasn't sure how much oxygen they had left, so they settled on their trusty flashlight. Their shivering had slowed greatly as each degree dipped lower, their bodies quickly succumbing to the cold, no longer fighting it. In fact, Sam wasn't sure if there was ever going to be a tomorrow for either one of them as he turned sorrow-filled blue green eyes on his dying brother.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew he could no longer deny that Dean was surely dying. But for how long his brother could hold out, he didn't know. Each struggle for breath, each uncontrollable shiver wracking Dean's fragile body and bringing with it new bouts of agonized grunts and groans, each time his brother lost consciousness and woke up incoherent, the rattle he heard deep in his brother's chest…all signs pointed to his brother's early demise. He didn't want to think it – he didn't even want to _believe_ it.

It was his brother's harsh hacking that snapped Sam out of his troubling thoughts, and it was the gagging sound that made him hurry to his brother's side. His heart clenched painfully as he watched the thick pool of crimson grow bigger. He flinched horribly when a snapping sound reverberated loudly across the cave, and realized that it was the same noise he had heard when Dean was slammed against the tree.

"Sammy…something's wrong," Dean said between coughs.

"What?!" Sam almost shouted, "What's wrong?"

Dean flinched, then groaned, "Dude, tone it down, why dontcha? And I don't know. It's just…my chest…feels funny…and...hurts…like a bitch…"

Swallowing hard, Sam gently rolled Dean back on his back and began inspecting the hunter's chest, poking and prodding with careful fingers, flinching whenever Dean hissed in pain at a particular spot. He finally let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and closed his eyes when he discovered his findings: a punctured lung. His eyes snapped open and grew wider as Dean inhaled, barely feeling the left side of his sibling's chest moving in, as the right side moved out under his hands. His panic rose, almost engulfed him as he let his eyes fall on his brother's chest and seeing the horrific movement the older man's chest was doing as it struggled for breath.

_Ah shit!_ Sam's swore, not realizing he'd voiced it out loud.

"Sam?" Dean looked at him quizzically, noticing his baby brother staring at something on his chest with unabashed horror written all over his face.

Sam drank in small gulps of air through his mouth while his own chest hitched horribly, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and forced a comforting smile, hoping to calm both his and his brother nerves when he felt Dean's concern gaze on him, "I-it's nothing."

"N-nothing, huh?" Dean said softly, knowing that was serious, "Listen Sam –"

"DON'T. Just don't, Dean," Sam commanded harshly. Taking off his heavy jacket, he pulled off a sweater, put his jacket back on, and rolled up the sweater, heedless of the blood on it. Gently pulling Dean into a sitting position, Sam settled himself behind him, back against the rock wall, pulled Dean's back to his chest, and mindful of the branch, held the compress on Dean's side, minimizing the movement to prevent further damage.

If Dean had his way, he would have grumbled about being manhandled, but seeing as his strength was leaving him, he settled on, "Care to t-tell me what's g-gotten you in full on M-Mother Hen m-mode?"

"It feels like you have a flail chest Dean...and I just don't want to take any chances."

"Huh, n-no wonder you're a-acting like s-such a g-girl."

Smiling sadly, Sam moved even closer to Dean, needing the contact. Dean couldn't help but lean into him, also needing the contact and what little warmth the embrace provided. For a moment, both brothers didn't say a word, using their connection to convey nonverbal sentences of affection to each other.

"Sam," Dean said suddenly, shaking, breaking the silence, "f-first aid k-kit."

"Dean?" Sam asked worriedly, "Y-you hurt a-anywhere e-else? You want s-some m-m-morphine?"

Dean closed his eyes and weakly shook his head but stopped, grimacing, "N-n-not m-me…y-y-you."

"What?"

Dean opened his glassy hazel green eyes, "B-blood."

"Dean, I t-told you t-the head w-wound's f-fine –"

Shaking his head more vigorously but holding the grimace back this time, Dean spoke through clenched teeth as he tried valiantly to stave off shivers. "Sssiiddee."

Looking down at the growing red spot staining his own sweaters, Sam briefly wondered about the pain that was supposed to come with it and why he hadn't felt it at all, but decided that it was all due to the coldness. In fact, because of his constant fear and worry over his big brother, he had neglected his head wound and now the one on his side. Every time he felt unconsciousness tugging at his concussed mind, he always tried to keep himself busy, knowing that if he surrendered to it, they would die quicker and without a fight, "It's f-fine Dea-"

"F-fix it."

"Dean –"

"O-or I-I w-w-will."

Looking down at the determined glint that still shone brightly in his brother's cloudy eyes, Sam huffed in annoyance, maneuvered around Dean and reached for the kit. Carefully pulling his sweaters up, Sam groaned at seeing an inch of bone protruding from his side.

Dean's breath hitched at the sight of his brother's new wound, and caused another bad coughing fit. Clinging desperately to his brother as he rode out the excruciating pain that jarred deeply into this soul, he continued to cough viciously, bringing up more blood. Just when he thought he would pass out, it stopped, leaving him exhausted beyond belief. It took a moment longer to bring his short gasps to a somewhat normal level as it was trying to keep up with his rapidly beating heart.

Sam held on to Dean like his life depended on it, wincing, cringing, and flinching whenever the hunter's rough coughing turned more fierce. Sam worried that Dean's attack would cause him to suffocate as each gulp of air had hitched and started a new fit. Quickly feeling his brother's pulse, he was amazed at how it had gone from rapid to thready in just a few short seconds. _I'm losing him_, Sam thought, as fresh new tears appeared.

"Ssm," Dean breathed, barely any force behind his voice.

"Yeah, D-Dean?" Sam choked.

"W-wound," Dean whispered before closing his eyes and letting his head drop back.

Hearing Dean's tortured, laborious breaths even in slumber, Sam rocked him rhythmically as he cried softly, trying hard not to imagine a life without his brother by his side. A couple of minutes passed before Sam went to work on his own injury. Opening the kit, he took out several pieces of gauze and placed them all around the wound. Using one hand, he managed to secure it with tape. Feeling that that was all he could do at the moment, he decided to wake up his sibling, not liking the eerie silence accompanying Dean's difficult breathing.

"Dean?"

"No, no, no, no, no, no," Dean mumbled suddenly, turning his head from side to side, eyes roaming frantically about under lids scrunched tight and weakly pushing away from Sam, his breaths coming in short fearful gasps, "ppleese Ssaammyy, nnot tthis…I'll do aaanythiingg…ppleese ddon shoot…ppleese ddon sstay maad aat mmee…"

Sam couldn't take anymore as he was beginning to feel nauseous and started shaking his brother, "Hey man, w-wake up." _My God, was he dreaming about what I did to him in Illinois?_

Dean's eyes snapped open and his terrified gaze roamed around the cave before remembering where they were. Sighing in relief, he tiredly settled himself back against Sam.

"Hey, b-bro," Sam started, unsure if it would work, "you wanna t-talk about it?"

"T-talk about what?" Dean feigned ignorance.

Hugging his brother tightly and making Dean roll his eyes, Sam said, "You had a n-nightmare. You weren't d-dreaming about that time in Illinois, w-were you?"

"D-dude, you're such a girl," Dean smirked feebly, eyes casting somewhere out in the distance.

Sam could see the life leaving those eyes, eyes that had once belonged to a much stronger, much spirited Dean Winchester, not the fragile, broken one lying in his brother's arms as he waited to die, "Dean, t-talk to me."

"T-there's nothing to t-talk abou-"

"Dammit Dean, yes there is!" Sam almost shouted and shook his brother as he did so, causing both to hiss out of pain. Speaking more quietly, Sam said, "I've said my apologies for what happened back there in that asylum. I've said things that I can't take back…but dude, it wasn't _me_. _I_ didn't say –"

"Stop it, Sam," Dean growled, adding force behind his words, "I knew some of it wasn't you…that you were possessed…but I also knew that some of it _was_ you. What you said…it had to have come from somewhere…maybe some repressed feelings that needed to come out –"

"Repressed fee-? C'mon man! You can't have seriously thought that?" One look at Dean's downward gaze confirmed it, "Look man…maybe you're right. It was repressed feelings. I was angry. I was angry at Dad…at him for leaving you, leaving us…I was angry at him for not being there when we needed him the most, for making us live this life…and for treating you like an obedient soldier instead of a son."

Seeing the look of protest coming from Dean, Sam rushed on, "Listen, I was angry, no, _pissed_ at what we went through. You and I have sacrificed too much already so that Dad could go on his little crusade…but where has that gotten us? Knocking on death's door too many times, man…I grew sick and tired of seeing you get hurt over and over…I grew sick and tired of playing the deadly game of who-can-get-to-the-other-side-and-back. Do you even know how many times we've cheated death in the last ten years? And for what? I just grew sick and tired of hunting…and I wanted something more…that's why I-I left," tears misted his eyes, "…but even then, I knew I was leaving you…with _Dad_," Sam scowled, "I don't think I can ever forgive the man…but don't you ever think I hate you, because I don't. You're my big brother, annoying as hell, but that's what big, awesome brothers are for, right?"

"Dean?" Sam asked worriedly when he didn't answer. His worry went up a notch when he saw his brother biting his lip like if he was straining against something.

Dean couldn't help it. When Sam began talking, he listened to the tone of his brother's voice more than the words, hoping against hope that he was wrong about his baby brother despising him. As he listened, heart hammering fiercely, feelings of dread, fear, sorrow, denial, anger, surprise, and hopefulness clashed against each other with each faint beat of his heart. But in the end, Dean couldn't help it.

Grinning widely, corners of his eyes crinkled in mirth, Dean said, "Feeling better now, Princess? Now that you've gotten all that off of your chest? Y'know, I'm betting you'll win an Oscar for that 'cause that was beautiful."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Shut up jerk."

"Bitch," Dean spat weakly.

*~*~*

Caleb felt like throwing something or more likely, punching someone…preferably John, as the guilt ate away at his soul. He was damn sure it was a black dog he sent the boys after – he did the research himself after Jefferson contacted him to ask him if he could take care of it, but when a poltergeist warranted attention, he passed the black dog case onto the boys. _But now it wasn't a black dog? Damn it!_

Sitting on a chair with papers of the black dog case strewn about on the small table in a run-down motel somewhere in Idaho, Caleb debated whether or not he should include John Winchester in it. _He was, after all, their father_, Caleb thought grimly as he ran his large calloused hand through his short dark blond hair. After getting the call from the youngest Winchester, he quickly called Pastor Jim for aid and thanked whoever was listening that Bobby was there too. Both quickly agreed to help, and Caleb could only trust that they're already heading that way.

_I should get going too_, he thought as he glanced at the cold, darkened sky through the motel's grimy windows. As he was gathering his research, his eye caught on the small protective charm hanging around his neck that Dean gave him for Christmas eight years ago. He smiled at the memory. John was beyond pissed when Dean spent his entire poker and pool earnings on Christmas presents for Sammy, John, Bobby, Jim, and himself. Just remembering John made those other memories fresh again. They were memories of the look on John's face whenever his boys got hurt or sick: unadulterated and unabashed worry and fear…feelings belonging to a father. _Ah hell…_

Speed dialing his friend, he waited apprehensively for the sound of John Winchester's gruff voice. Caleb was almost bouncing off the walls when the older hunter's voicemail picked up. Cursing the older man, he angrily tossed his cell on the bed and began packing for the long road ahead of him. After he made sure everything was packed and ready to go, he stomped back into the room and grabbed his cell, already deciding to leave the oldest Winchester a _friendly_ message.

"YOU LISTEN AND YOU LISTEN GOOD ASSHOLE. SOMETHING CAME UP AND YOUR BOYS NEED YOU NOW. THEY'RE HURT AND ALONE, AND THEY NEED THEIR FATHER. IF THERE WAS EVER A TIME TO PULL YOUR STUBBORN HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS, NOW'S THE TIME. YOU KNOW WHO TO CALL," Caleb ended threateningly, sapphire blue eyes glinting dangerously.

Usually, he was never a short-tempered man – always making jokes about everything in life – but under the current circumstances, especially when it involved John abandoning his boys for a demon, his tolerance of John was shortly coming to an abrupt end.

Stomping back outside as the bitter, chilly wind began to bite at his exposed skin, he barely climbed inside his truck and started it when his cell vibrated furiously. He waited until he was on the road before answering it, somehow knowing who was on the other line.

"WHAT THE HELL, CALEB?!" John's booming voice shouted, sounding his usual pissed-off self, "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT?"

Caleb didn't have time for this, "Shut it John! Listen, I got a call from Sammy – you do remember him, don't you? – he said that he and Dean are holed up in a cave somewhere in Montana –"

"I'm sure they're fine," John said infuriatingly.

"Goddammit John, no they're not!" Caleb shouted, "Sam's hurt and Dean's hurt, not to mention it's like below zero degrees out there! Jim, Bobby and myself are on our way, and if we find them dead, I'm gonna be the one to come after you, you sonofabitch, because you failed to show up when your boys needed you the most," he finished viciously, spit flying from his mouth. He threw his cell on the seat beside him and slammed his fist on the steering wheel in frustration. _Those boys better be alive when we find them_, Caleb thought as he pressed the accelerator a little harder.

*~*~*

_What the hell?_ John thought as he looked at his phone like it was some foreign object from outer space. Shaking his head in amazement as he placed his cell on the table before him, he wearily got up off his chair and strode over to the small refrigerator for a beer. Opening the can and taking a swig, he replayed the conversation that took place not minutes ago.

Caleb sounded pissed. What made it hard to wrap his mind around was that Caleb was never one to resort to any kind of violence among friends and family – only with the supernatural. True, Caleb could sure be as ruthless as the rest of them, but he could display softer emotions as well.

_Guess maybe it's because of the boys_, John thought as he sagged back in his chair. He had been dumbfounded and blessed at the strong bond Jim, Bobby, and Caleb had with his boys the first time they were introduced when Dean and Sammy were little. All three grew to be Daddies as well as great friends to his boys.

_Dean and Sammy…No! No, they're okay, they have to be_, John told himself firmly. John loved his boys and would do anything for them…but with him being so close to finding the demon, he wouldn't endanger his sons' lives. It was his fight and his fight alone. _But I'm the one who brought them into the supernatural world in the first place…what makes me think it'll end with the evil yellow-eyed piece of shit?_

He balled his hand into a tight, angry fist at the mere mention of the evil entity that cruelly murdered his wife, but he forced the tense muscles to ease up as his hand opened. Taking another gulp and letting the cold soothing liquid ran down his throat and entered his empty stomach, he let his mind wander back to his boys. _What if Caleb's right and they're hurt?_

_No, they have to be alright. If they're not…if something happens to them…I can't...I don't think I'll have the strength to go on_, John thought forlornly, but decided to shrug it off, completely without a doubt sure his sons were definitely alright. Scratching the two day old stubble on his chin, he returned to his research.

According to the police reports, autopsy reports, and countless eyewitnesses, and putting all these facts together, he knew they all had been in contact with a thing called a Tsi-noo, a soul-sucking, deadly creature with a heart made of ice, preying on the innocents in Montana. Hunting it was going to be a bitch, but putting it down for good was going to be the easy part. The creature's Achilles heel was both fire and silver, but John knew that silver could only wound it whereas fire was the sure way to destroy it for good. _Wait a minute. Didn't Caleb say that the boys were somewhere in Montana?_

John pondered that and almost shrugged it off, if it wasn't for the persistent nagging in the back of his mind. Snatching his phone up off the table, he was about to call Caleb when he thought better of it. Instead, he called Bobby.

"Singer speaking."

"Hey Bobby, its John."

"Huh, well I sure as hell didn't think you were gonna call."

"Yeah well…" John started, clearing his throat, "where the hell are they?"

Bobby wasn't fooled when John was trying to sound nonchalant about the serious situation, when in fact he sounded scared _shitless._

After Bobby relayed the info Caleb told him, John said his thanks and hung up. It only took a second in the silent confines of his motel room to realize the horror. _Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!_ The father's mind screamed as he grabbed his heavy jacket and stormed out of the room in a frenzy. Getting to his black truck, John called 911 as he backed up and pressed the accelerator hard, making the tires squeal as it left the lot.

"911, state your emergency," an almost bored female voice answered.

"My b-boys," John choked, stopped himself, and began again, "My boys…they're in a cave…somewhere in the mountains…possibly hurt…"

"Okay sir," the cool voice sounded off and brisk, trying to calm the worried father once the seriousness of the situation demanded attention, "calm down and tell me where they are."

The oldest Winchester stuttered as he passed along the info, first time in a long time feeling that something was finally going right when he needed it to.

But his heart sank to the ground at the woman's next words.

"I'm sorry sir. Due to the snowstorm, help cannot be dispatched there right now, but will soon, once the storm settles down into a more acceptable –"

Frustrated, John snapped his phone closed and tossed it onto the empty seat beside him.

All through the ride, he couldn't help but blame himself for what was happening, thinking that it was his fault his boys unknowingly ended up face-to-face with that evil, ugly piece of shit. He kept wondering if the Man upstairs was laughing his Holy butt off at the irony that the Winchesters were even in the same small town – one knowing what he was hunting and two thinking they were hunting something else.

Forty-five minutes later and John could see the Impala up ahead as he turned down the road and parked right alongside it. Jumping down from his vehicle, he grabbed his pack that he had prepared earlier for the Tsi-noo and ran like his life depended on it to where his boys were at. _I'm coming boys, just hold on…_

*~*~*

Sam woke with a start by a noise that sounded like it came from somewhere above them, and momentarily wondered when on earth he had succumbed to the darkness that his abused, exhausted body wanted. Looking down at his sleeping brother, he chastised himself for not staying awake and alert before checking the older hunter's vitals. When he found that nothing had changed, he moved himself into a somewhat more comfortable position without moving his brother.

Listening to the ominous nothingness coming from the cave and the shallow bursts of breath coming from each other, bodies trying to shiver like mad in the last steps of survival against the cold, Sam finally allowed time to fully assess his own injuries – injuries that had no doubt gotten worst from taking care of Dean.

The excruciating pounding in his head redoubled its efforts once he woke up, almost making him groan out as he tried breathing through the pain. Besides the white-hot pain shooting up and down his side due to the bone, he had figured that that was the least of his problems. He had hoped he wasn't bleeding internally, but the feeling of tenderness around his abdomen and the cool and clammy feel of his own skin had him guessing otherwise.

Feeling the all too familiar allure of sleep begging him to allow oblivion to claim him, he pushed the oh-so real temptation aside as he listened more attentively to a sound he never wanted to hear, fear almost escalating to a blinding point. His brother's rattles were now noisier than they had been before he fell asleep, and had now gained his utmost attention. Feeling his brother's pulse for what seemed like the millionth time and finding it unsteady and much weaker, his foreboding of his brother's end was looming ever closer._ Oh God…_

"D-Dean?" Sam asked, waking his brother and desperately wanting to talk. The fear that his brother likely wouldn't survive another hour almost made his breathing near impossible.

"Hmmm?" the faintest of sounds erupted the too quietness of the cave.

_Oh God, he already sounds breathless_, Sam dreaded. Swallowing hard and blinking back tears, he held his cold brother closer and asked, "D-Do you r-remember the t-time you s-spent all your hard e-earned savings on C-Christmas p-presents?"

Dean huffed ever so softly, "D-Dad nearly r-ripped my head o-off."

Sam chuckled, but stopped, wincing and groaning as his breath hitched painfully in his chest. _Something's wrong…oh shit…_

"S-s-sammy, y-you o-okay?"

Ignoring the cold sweat trickling down his brow and biting down hard on his bottom lip as his body rode out wave after wave of seemingly endless pain, he nonetheless forced a smile as he tried to alleviate his brother's concerns, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that Dean had done the exact same thing to him so many times in the past, "M'fine Dean –"

"No, y-y-you're n-not."

Sam rolled his eyes, trying to figure out how the hell Dean had done it so successfully in the past, making him believe his older brother was always fine, "It's n-nothing. I j-just…p-p-probably p-pulled a m-m-muscle…or o-overexerted m-myself."

"B-bullshit. T-the hell you d-did," Dean grumbled as he tried to turn around to check on his baby brother himself, barely biting back a cry of pain in doing so.

"Dean, j-just r-relax m-man. I'm f-fine. R-really, I-I am," Sam comforted him as he gently, but firmly restrained the dying hunter.

For a few precious minutes, the sound of their matched shallow breathing, one weak but steady and the other barely gasping, once again filled the cold, dark cave. Refusing to pay attention to the black dots creeping up into his vision, Sam began rocking his brother, all the while keeping count of the breaths Dean took, and slightly shaking him whenever he skipped one. He hated seeing the awful shade of blue tingeing his brother's lips turn more vivid and the glassy orbs turn glassier, but at least he made sure Dean stayed awake this time around.

Sam jostled his brother when he saw his eyes closed, "D-Dean, do you k-know what d-day it is?"

Dean gradually opened his eyes as his hazy mind began working slowly, ineffectively swallowing blood, too weak to cough, "T-the twenty-f-fifth?"

Sam smiled, tears glistening in his eyes and planted a kiss on the top of his brother's head. Positioning his lips over Dean's ear, he said softly, "M-Merry Christmas big b-brother."

Dean closed his eyes and slowly opened them, too weak to reply back, but the corners of his mouth feebly twitched upwards in a smile as he squeezed his brother's arm weakly as if to say 'Merry Christmas to you too, little brother'.

A noise echoed off into the distance – the same noise if Sam guessed right – but this time it sounded much closer, stealing his attention away from his brother. Earlier when he had heard the noise the first time, he had thought it was Caleb and the others who had finally found them, but when the noise ended as suddenly as it began, he then chunked it to the idea that it was just his imagination. But listening to a chorus of sound string together in a fast, furious tempo had his heart beat just as fast and just as furious, desperately hoping that this time it was not all in his head.

Holding his breath and making the black dots dance more furiously before his eyes, he forcefully trained them to catch any glimpse of fallen snow. He almost cried with relief when tiny tidbits of snow fell as the racket became louder. Letting his head fall back as his eyes stared unseeingly up at the cave's ceiling, he sent a quick prayer of 'Thanks' to the Man Upstairs. _They were saved!_

"D-Dean? Hey Dean, guess w-what?" Sam asked, almost beside himself and jostled the precious bundle in his arms.

"Dean?" Sam asked worriedly when he didn't answer. Placing his hand on Dean's neck and feeling the carotid artery to check his heart beat, Sam soon felt sick and dizzy with fear at his cold discovery. Not feeling the thrum of life that meant his brother still had a fighting chance, Sam pressed harder as he moved Dean's mouth up to his ear.

_No, no, no, no, no_, his mind lamented when he didn't find a puff of air or his brother's heartbeat, "Dean!"

Looking into the dull, lifeless eyes of his older brother, he immediately felt himself break into a million pieces as his mind short-circuited, breaths coming short gasps, and causing an awful coughing fit. He vaguely registered the blood he coughed up as he quickly recovered and moved out from behind Dean. The sudden movement painfully jarred something in his already abused body, sending the strong protest into a much greater crescendo and blocking everything else out.

Crying out in pain, Sam crumpled in a boneless heap to the ground, next to his brother, and not hearing the familiar deep voice cry out, "SAMMY?!"

**TBC...**

* * *

_I truly hope this one has satisfied all the Dean and Sammy fans...and there's one more chapter to go! Please let me know what you think! ;)_


End file.
